Knowing you're Special
by I Fall Downstiars all the Time
Summary: The story of Dr. Cable before she was Special, and how she became special... her adventures as an Ugly.
1. Chapter 1

I had always been a tricky Ugly.

I realized this as every time I escaped my dorm room window, as I slid down the roof, my hoverboard under my arm. I realized it every time I ran silently down the streets, clinging to shadows, desperate to pull tricks that would make people remember me. I was smart. I was a novelty. I was a trickster at heart.

I was special.

The moonlight streamed through the trees as I weaved between them on my hoverboard, my tight black jeans and t-shirt fitting to my body like a second skin. I was skinny enough, but I had never been able to completely get rid of my soft, pudgy belly, or of the extra baby fat that lined my dry cheeks. My eyes were too far apart, one higher than the other, but they were dark blue with flecks of green; they could almost pass for a Pretty's, in color. But my face never could; my nose a huge protuberance, and one covered in blackheads at that; my hair tangled and thin, the color of the mud and dirt that was caked to the bottom of my grippy shoes, as the ground was soft due to today's rain; my lips thin and cracked unless I was constantly applying Lip Saver, which made them as soft and plump as a child's. My body was no miracle either, with my aforementioned soft pudge, with a practically nonexistent chest and very slim hips. I was built more like my guy friends Ryder and Heath than my girl friends like Alyshia and Pajon, who were both soft and curvy. I had more grit than the both of them put together to make up for it, though, I thought wryly as my hoverboard led me to the natural mineral deposits that lie in the fast-racing river that surrounded New Pretty Town. The navy blue sky, the same color of my eyes, was lit with green, purple, and red fireworks. Delighted cries laced the air, but I could barely hear them over the water; I was approaching the White Water, and soon, the Rusty Ruins.

I flew silently past the ruins, past the bones of the smiling dead that sat in their grounded hovercars. I went straight towards the tallest building; to the direct left, I saw a faint glow from the sheet that hung over a doorway, fluttering slightly in the wind. I strode towards it purposefully and threw it aside, making a grand entrance, simply because I could.

My friends were circled around a small fire that cast shadows around the small room. Dirt covered the tiled floor, tiles that used to be white. As I approached them, I saw Heath turning the used fire starter in his nimble hands, his too-small brown eyes completely focused on his task from the other side of his large glasses. Pajon was checking her backpack for something, one large arm rummaging through, her dark skin shining in the firelight. Alyshia and Ryder were in a corner, locked in a tight embrace, their lips moving together, Alyshia's huge, frizzy hair obscuring Ryder's zit-plagued face.

"About time you got here, Bro," Pajon said, looking up at me with a smirk. I dropped down next to her.

"Oh shut up, Fatty. You guys wouldn't be here without me." I smirked a little at her. Pajon smirked back. We both used our Ugly nicknames, but I loved her like a sister. If I still had a sister.

"We were afraid you had chickened out," Heath said. The light flickered off of his frames.

"Me? Please, Four-Eyes. Don't you know me at all?" I smiled at him, thankful it was dark; his soft smile made my cheeks feel a bit warmer, after he had kissed me before our trick last week. "Will you two get over here?" I barked towards Ryder and Alyshia. They soon disengaged themselves and wandered over, although they still held hands.

"That's disgusting," Pajon said flatly. "You two are disgusting."

"Shut up, Fatty," Alyshia said nonchalantly as she picked at her fingernails that were on the hand that wasn't intertwined with Ryder's. "It wouldn't be so disgusting if you had a boyfriend."

"You call _him _boyfriend material?" Pajon shot back, but I noticed she was upset. She snorted to hide her chagrin. "I'd rather stay ugly for the rest of my life then be with _him_."

"Watch it, Fatty," Alyshia snarled.

"_You _watch it, Friz, or I'll–"

"Enough," I said, and my voice cut through the air. They fell silent. Ryder leaned over and murmured something in Alyshia's ear, then kissed her neck. "And really, you two. That is enough. We don't need you guys sucking face in the background."

"Whatever, Bro," Ryder muttered, but he leaned further from Alyshia.

"Watch it, Zits," Heath said quietly. Ryder gave him a look, and they had some form of silent guy communication that always drove me insane. I ignored it and pressed forward.

"Tonight, ladies and gentlemen," I began, and Alyshia giggled at the Rusty phrase, "we are going to change history for Uglies everywhere. We're going to make the Pretties see that we _deserve _to be among them. We're going to make them know that we deserve to walk their streets and go to their bashes. We're going to make history tonight."

The excitement showed on their faces, despite my lame speech. It wasn't the best the speech I had made – I had given far better ones during school – but they knew I meant what I said. We _did _deserve to be with the Pretties. They could give the operation at twelve. I was fifteen and a half. I was impatient. I wanted to be Pretty. But above that, I wanted glory. I wanted to be remembered, like the Rusties we still studied in History Class. I wanted to be known. I wanted to be remembered. Because I knew I was different. I was smart. I was able. I, Tabitha Elizabeth Cable, was special.


	2. Chapter 2

The idea had come to me in a dream.

I had been flying through the forest on my hoverboard, cutting through a mist like a hot knife through butter. The only sound to be heard was the sound of fireworks on the other side of the river, where Pretties partied and laughed and drank. I wanted to join them. In this dream, I had crossed the river on my hoverboard, wearing all black. A crowd of Pretties parted like the mist I had passed through, and they led me to Adrian. I knew what he looked like as a Pretty; tall, lean, his curly golden hair falling into bright blue eyes that were flecked with gold. His skin seemed to shimmer like his teeth as he smiled at me.

"Tabby," he said. I got off my hoverboard and walked forward to him. He gently touched my face, then moved aside. A silhouette approached me. She had long dark hair that billowed in a wind that I couldn't feel. Fireworks exploded above and the Safe Embers fell down to us, illuminating her face. She wasn't Pretty, but she was beautiful.

"Calanthia," I breathed.

My sister was alive. She smiled at me.

"You have to convince them that we need the operation sooner," she urged me, interlocking her fingers with Adrian's. "If I had gotten the operation when I was twelve, like I knew they could, then I wouldn't be dead."

"I know," I choked out. Embers fell around us, but this time, they burned.

"You need to talk to Adrian," she said. Adrian smiled at me again, and a rush was sent through me.

"Okay, Cally," I said. "I will. I promise."

Calanthia smiled at me, her smile as true as the meaning of her name, and suddenly she was disintegrating, falling away in the wind that I couldn't feel. Embers landed on me, burning my skin.

"You need to come find me," Adrian said. "You know that there's a party coming. You have to come talk to me. You need to distract the Wardens, and come talk to me. I can't remember that it's important. You need to remind me. And I'll remind everyone else."

"Why can't you remember?" I asked. The wind blew his hair out of his eyes, and suddenly, the sockets were empty.

"The operation," he said. "It's the operation, Tabby."

Embers landed in my eyes. And when I awoke, my eyes were burning.

I was crying.

(*)(*)(*)

"Thank you for informing us of this," a deep voice said, resonating in the young girl's chest. Her frizzy hair fell into her pale, empty eyes.

"Of course, Warden," she said, bowing, afraid to move. She wasn't sure what she had done was right, but she knew that _something _had to be done. Tabitha's plan was insane. She hadn't been right for a while. She needed to have some sense talked into her; this plan was bogus.

"We'll be in touch soon," the Warden said. "You're free to go."

"Thank you, sir," she said, stumbling over her words and feet as she hastily exited. She practically ran out of the room as the Warden turned. His Middle-Pretty face was no longer Pretty, displaying scars and cuts that he refused to Surge away. He let his age show through his wrinkles. He was stronger than most Middle-Pretties, all traces of the mind-restricting lesions gone, his senses sharper than the Committee for Morphological Standards would usually allow; but Aron Preyze was the Head Warden. Like the chief policeman from the Rusty Days, Aron had the responsibility of keeping the entire city in check. If it weren't for him, no rules would be developed. No restrictions would be in order. The existence of lesions might even be in danger; some radical Middle-Pretties believed that the lesions were unfair and that every Pretty deserved the ability to _think_. "Politics," Aron scoffed under his breath while taking a drink of his scotch. His assistant, Ophelia, glanced up at him from under her copper bangs, her bright blue eyes shining. She saw that Aron was milling over his scotch, peering into the depths of his glass as he usually did when there was a true problem that required, and she went back to studying Tabitha Cable's report.

"She's quite extraordinary," Ophelia said after a weighted pause.

"Extraordinary indeed," Aron said softly. "What is her motive, again?"

"Her sister died two months before she would've had the operation," Ophelia said, picking up Calanthia Cable's file. "She was very popular. Very much adored by the Uglies. Her boyfriend at the time, Adrian Just, wasn't the same until he received the operation and the lesions himself."

Aron scoffed and downed his scotch. "And some think that we need to get _rid _of the lesions. Ridiculous. They only heal."

Ophelia said nothing, refusing to voice her disagreement with the Head Warden, hiding the emotions on her younger Pretty face.

"What should we do?" Ophelia asked after another heavy pause.

"We," Aron said, standing and pulling on a pair of leather black gloves over his scarred hands, "are going to talk to Tabitha Cable. And we are going to make a deal with her. We need to see if she's really... Special."

Ophelia blinked. "You want to use Tabitha to…?"

"I think it's time," Aron said, tossing his jacket backwards and striding towards the door. "I think we need to talk to Miss Tabitha first. But I know that we can pass this." He turned his cold, stone gray eyes on Ophelia, whose shock was evident on her pale, Pretty face. Aron Preyze turned back around. "Oh, and make sure that you leave a little something for Miss Alyshia. She's been _most _helpful."

"Yes, sir," Ophelia said, dread blooming in the pit of her stomach like a poisonous flower. She glanced back down at the picture of the pretty Calanthia Cable, her eyes staring accusingly up at her from behind the red DECEASED stamp that slashed across her picture. She would've made a wonderful Pretty. Ophelia stood and walked with her heels clicking on the dark tiles to the Wall Minder.

"Contact Alyshia Huff, please," she said. The wall pinged at her, almost sadly.


	3. Chapter 3

A day had passed; night had fallen. We all had our seperate points to breach; I was waiting in the northern woods, able to see New Pretty Town through the tall branches, able to hear the fireworks and very distant cheers. I tuned into my interface ring, on a seperate channel that Heath had set up for us. We never spoke, but we communicated through a Rusty technique used over the ocean called Morse Code. I pinged three times, saying I was in position. Pajon replied with three pings, then Alyshia, then Heath, then Ryder. I couldn't help but smile: the game was afoot.

The plan was fairly simple, because I had known from a loudmouthed and constantly pinging Pretty that there was a big party for all Pretties under a year old at a beach party. It wasn't a true beach, of course, but a lakeside one that would have a lot of alcohol and fireworks and Pretties. I knew that Adrian would be there, laughing and smiling and utterly devoid of the memory of what had happened to my sister. Adrian was already a well known Pretty, according to the Pinging Pretty as she was known to Uglies. The pings had become a problem; someone had hacked into the interface and made this Pretty's pings accessable to anyone, and now all Uglies knew of this Pretty's life. The Wardens had yet to figure out who could've hacked the system. I knew who was behind it, of course, as these pings were essental to our plan. I smiled a little as I saw the bracelet that Heath had given me catch a ray of light from the fireworks overhead. Not only was he a hacking genius; he was also a pretty great boyfriend. Finally, I saw a second round of fireworks, and with excitement blooming in my stomach like a flower, I sent out one lonely ping.

It had begun.

I turned off my interface ring, as we all would, and waited a full ten seconds before flying towards the river and New Pretty Town. Pajon would now be running across a bridge, playing the role of a desperate Ugly who wanted to meet an old friend. The Wardens would intercept her, of course, and she would stir up a scene that would call more attention than necessary, leaving the rest of the boarders clear for us to cross. We could've gotten across without the distraction - after all, hoverboards could travel everywhere in the city - but the distraction would help throw the Wardens off of our scent. I flew over the boarder as a spotlight from a hovercar raked over the river. I stayed still and silent in the trees on the other side of the river, my mind racing. I carefully turned on my interface ring to see if anyone else knew why there were so many wardens around the river tonight.

"-they know! They were waiting for me, I don't know what happened, they're holding me, get out of here now, Four-Eyes Fritz Bro Zits don't do it they know-"

I turned off my interface ring, horror running through me. _No._ They knew. They knew that we would be breaking in tonight. How did they know? Did they somehow track our channel to the Pretty's pings? I didn't know what had happened, but I knew that I was going to continue. I owed it to my sister. I got back on my hoverboard, setting my jaw, weaving through the trees. It was almost like there was anothing different on this side of the river, nothing special in New Pretty Town. The trees looked the same.

I saw the cheery light of a bonfire and heard the empty sound of Pretty laughter, informing me that I was close to the party. I took a deep breath and checked my interface ring once more, sending out a single ping. We all had our personal ping number; I was one. Pajon was two. Heath was three. Ryder was four. Alyshia was five. After I sent out my ping, Heath replied with three pings. Ryder soon gave out his four. I knew Pajon had been picked up, so we were waiting for Alyshia.

We waited.

She was gone. No ping of reply. No message. It was as if she disappeared. My eyebrows furrowed together on my too-high forehead, and I wondered what had happened. I knew that this could mean we were in serious trouble, but we weren't the first Uglies to sneak across the river. I simply wanted to see an old friend. The Wardens could have no idea that I had something special planned.

I pinged again, telling Heath and Ryder to proceed. After I got their replies, I turned off my interface ring and moved, knowing that I didn't have much time. The Wardens could've easily found where I was. I closed up my hoverboard and hid it in a cluster of trees, knowing I could hide there and not be seen if necessary. I ran now, weaving through the trees as easily if I was on my hoverboard. I saw a few silhouettes walking through the trees; one person called out to me in a musical, trusting voice of a new Pretty. I wasn't who they were searching for, and so I moved on, hoping that my body would pass for a Pretty's in the trees.

Ice ran through me as I heard a voice speaking on a megaphone.

"Do not be alarmed," I heard the calm, secure voice of a Warden say. "We are looking for three rogue Uglies who want to crash this wonderful party." I heard the murmurs of the crowd, some surprised, some angry. "We must check the premesis. Please do not worry."

"Why would they do this, officer?" a high-pitched voice said as I desperately looked through the crowd for Adrian. I was looking for Adrian's wavy blond hair, wavy blond hair, wavy blond -

"Because they need to find Adrian."

This wasn't spoken from a clueless New Pretty voice or a calm voice of a Warden or Middle Pretty. I snapped my head towards the source of the voice, towards the fringe of the crowd, and saw Heath standing bravely in front of them. The Wardens seemed shocked at his audacity, and a few female New Pretties screamed at the sight of him. I felt sick as I saw the Wardens run towards him. "Adrian!" Heath yelled as they grabbed him. "Adrian, there's something you need to know! Remember Calanthia!"

The Pretties were stirring, talking amongst themselves, unsure what Heath was talkign about. One of the Wardens clapped their hand over Heath's mouth, then cried out and pulled his hand away; Heath had bit him. "Calanthia Cable! Remember her!" Adrian seperated himself from the crowd, walking slowly forward towards Heath, one hand outstretched.

I burst from the woods and cut through the crowd, running towards him. More Pretty screams, more Warden cries. I grabbed Adrian's arm, and he turned towards me, his face tortured. "What happened to her?" he asked, and I was struck by his terrible beauty. I felt an arm grab me and pull me away, must stronger than I was, but I screamed back at him.

"She died!" I screamed, seeing nothing but Calanthia's face. "She died because she didn't have a Pretty immune system! She could've lived, if she had been given the operation sooner! They need to have the operation sooner-"

But then I was clubbed over the head, and everything went as black as it must have for my dead sister.

(*)(*)(*)

Aron stared from the trees as the scene unfolded, holding a hoverboard, watching the girl struggle. She didn't _look _special. But as she spoke, the Pretties began to listen, despite her Ugly face, despite her imperfections... He narrowed his gray eyes. This Tabitha Cable could become a problem. One of the Wardens finally had the sense to knock her out, and they took both Tabitha and one of her friends into a hovercar. The Warden pinged, and before he could speak, Aron said, "Bring them to me."

Aron turned and walked out of the woods, leaving a broken hoverboard among the trees.

(*)(*)(*)

A/N: hi guys! My name's Abby. this is obviously a prequil to the series, from Dr. Cable's point of view, of how she became Special. a couple people have already reviewed, which encourages me to keep writing... if you could find the time to review, that would be fantastic. Your reviews are really the reason why I write.

All of this is based off of Scott Westerfeld's "Uglies" series; none of it belongs to me.


	4. Chapter 4

Pajon, Alyshia, and Ryder sat in Alyshia's pink room, the pale walls seeming to glare at the three Uglies who sat amid piles of clothes. Alyshia saw her curly, frizzy hair in the mirror of her large, antique vanity table that overflowed with makeup and hair care products that didn't work on her frustrating blond mop. She looked guilty. Scared. Tired. Worried.

"Where'd you get the table, Alyshia?" Pajon asked, and Alyshia knew that it was just small talk because they were all worried about Tabby and Heath, but she snapped.

"It was a present, okay? God, Fatty. Just calm down. Go eat a cake or something."

Pajon's eyes darkened and she locked her jaw. "What the hell's gotten into you, Friz? You could've just said it was a gift instead of going all Rusty on me."

"Don't you two start," Ryder said in his deep voice from where he was lying on Alyshia's large pink bed. "We're waiting for some news from Heath or Tabitha. And you guys don't need to be going down each other's throats while we do so."

"Tell that to your crazy girlfriend," Pajon muttered, nudging a pile of pants on Alyshia's floor.

"Look, if you don't want to be here you–" Alyshia wasn't sure where she had been going, or what she had even been saying, but she immediately fell quiet when there was a small ping from Ryder's interface ring. Ryder immediately sat up and clicked it so the call would be picked up. Alyshia and Pajon both sat down on the bed.

"Ryder?" Heath's voice sounded weak and shaky.

"I'm here, man. What's going on?" Ryder's face was clouded with concern, and Alyshia's heart squeezed painfully. Why hadn't the Wardens caught all of them before this insane plan started? Why hadn't they just brought all of them in for questioning tonight, instead of letting them go along with this sick plan?

"Who's with you?" Heath asked.

"Alyshia and Pajon. Do you know where Tabby is?" Ryder's eyes stared blankly at the vanity table, not seeing his reflection in the unmarked mirror.

"Yeah," Heath said, "but–"

"Where? Where is she?" Alyshia's frantic voice spoke, her heart leaping like one of those old deer from the Rusty times. Ryder and Pajon both shot her looks, Ryder's filled with concern, Pajon's filled with suspicion. Alyshia didn't notice either of them, her focus on one thing: the interface ring.

"I can't say," Heath said. And then he coughed. The cough was filled with crackling, wheezing, almost as if he couldn't breathe. The air in Alyshia's pink room was thicker, solid, colder. It was a cough that they had all heard before. It was the same cough that Calanthia Cable had once had, before she had died.

"Where are you?" Ryder asked, and fear dripped from his every syllable.

"At my room," Heath said weakly, his voice sounding further away. "Could you guys come here?"

"We're on our way," Ryder said, standing. He ran out of the room, Pajon behind him, breathing heavily. Alyshia glanced at the vanity desk, remembering the oddly handwritten note that was attached to the mirror.

_Thank you for your assistance._

Alyshia was no longer sure if it was worth it.

(*)(*)(*)

When I woke up, I coughed. I remembered the cough. It was a grizzly sound, a desperate sound… a dying sound. I struggled to stand, but I became dizzy and immediately dropped to the ground, coughing again. My mouth filled with something thick and sour, and I spit it out, seeing a thick mass of phlegm. I only knew what the name of it was because of my sister, who had coughed just like this when she first got sick. I struggled to keep my eyes open, despite how dizzy I felt, looking around the plain white room, not seeing anything other than the black chair I had fallen out of, the white desk in front of me, and a black chair behind that. I coughed again, and then began to gag, my body convulsing, and I vomited, the small dinner I had eaten racing to escape me, my insides burning like hell probably felt.

I began to realize that I was sick.

But how? How could this happen? I was healthy. I had been to the Doctor's a few weeks before, and they said I was very fit, more fit than most. They asked to know how often I worked out, and I said twice a week, and I had begun working out twice a week after that lie. I was strong because I was out of the dorms so often due to tricking, but I couldn't tell the Doctor's that. So I had to start working out, and I enjoyed it, enjoyed feeling powerful and strong.

I didn't feel powerful or strong now.

I coughed again, and again and again, and I wondered what the hell had happened.

"Hello, Tabitha," a cool voice said, a voice smooth yet sharp, a voice that commanded authority. I stopped coughing simply to listen to him. I wanted to see his face. "My name is Aron Preyze. I think we need to talk."


	5. Chapter 5

Aron Preyze was tall and slender, with abnormally pale skin and sharp gray eyes, like a steak knife, or a razor blade. He showed unusual imperfections of age, with slight bags under his eyes and hard lines around a thin mouth. He was wearing dark clothes that hung loosely from his narrow frame, but never for an instant did I mistake him for being weak. He walked with poise and grace as his shoes daintily tapped the floor. I began coughing again as he sat down behind the desk. He waited for me to stop, his hands resting underneath his pointed chin, his fingers intertwined with the same grace in which he walked, staring at me as if he had all the time in the world. I took a shaky breath, coughing once more, but finally pulled myself up into the chair, gripping the straight, hard bottom with my trembling fingers.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, and hate welled up in my chest like the coughs had. I didn't reply, fighting to keep my emotions in check, trying to keep the confusion and the fear and the pain from displaying itself on my Ugly face. He tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for me to respond. I did my best to keep my face stoic and clear, feeling as if it was a silent battle – and I wanted to win.

"You're better than hiding things than most," he said, unlocking his fingers and reaching into his long coat's pocket, "but you make mistakes. You're not perfect." He tossed my interface ring onto the desk. I swallowed guilt, fear, and the unfamiliar, bitter taste of phlegm as I wondered how much he knew.

"Do I need to play all of the incriminating conversations that I have recorded on here?" he asked, nodding towards the ring. "Or are you willing to be cooperative?"

I coughed. The simple term of coughing was not an accurate description of what I was doing. I was practically vomiting air, forcing it out of me like a bullet from a gun. It hurt. It hurt like a beating.

Aron Preyze smiled wryly. "I am the Head Warden of Security," he said. "Naturally, I was concerned that you were planning such an elaborate…" He tilted his head a little. "_prank_ because of your sister. I thought, well… This whole, _forgetting_ business that you mentioned, forgetting as you become Pretty… Why, it's preposterous." He watched me carefully with those intelligent, unreadable eyes. "But let me tell you something." He leaned forward slightly, and his voice lowered. A shiver ran up my spine, and I broke out into a sweat, but I held his gaze, my stomach turning. "_It's completely true._

"So very few have figured out the existence of lesions. You probably don't know what they are. Let me explain a brief medical history: when someone undergoes the Pretty operation, as you Uglies call it, we make tiny incisions on their brain. Little ones that will make the Pretty-to-be in question a bubbly, happy, forgetful shell of a person." His voice was smooth and reassuring, but his eyes were cold and sharp, and they were what made my breath short. "We could do that to you, you know. We could make you forget about Calanthia. We could make you forget her very name."

"You bastard," I said, rage breaking through my facade. My fingers hurt from how tightly I held the edges of the hard chair I was in, but all pain was forgotten at the idea of forgetting my sister. "I will never, _ever_ forget that–" The coughing began. I felt… sick. I didn't know how else to describe it. Years ago, when I had looked at Calanthia, seeing her pale yet red face, the sweat clinging to her pretty but not Pretty face… It felt the same. I wondered how she could've possibly smiled throughout it all. "What did you do to me?" I asked after I could breathe once more.

"We gave you the same disease that your sister had," he said calmly. "We also infected your friend, Heath Anderson, while he was under brief custody."

There were no words. There was no way I could describe the horror and the hate and the disgust that I felt for this man who sat before me, his fingers folded with presumptuous grace, his eyes colder than a winter's night. I felt my trembling hand form a fist, and then a smile grew across this bastard's thin face. "Do you honestly think that will matter? That attempting to _physically harm me _will somehow help or amend this situation? Even if you somehow managed to lay a hand on me, why would you? To what end would that be helpful to your predicament?" He stared at me, his eyes shinning with a strange gray light, glimmering in anticipation. "I have an escape for you, Tabitha. I have a deal."

(*)(*)(*) A/N: Hello! I know it's been a while since my last update; things have be really hectic, and I wanted this chapter to be well written. Please review! What do you think is going to happen? What kind of a deal will Aron make, and would Tabitha ever accept it? Do you think Heath being infected has to do with that? All of this belongs to Scott Westerfeld. 


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